


Brew, David

by ICMezzo



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: AU, Comeplay, Dubious Consent, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Fuck Or Die, M/M, More like fuck or get really sick, Overstimulation, References to Past Recreational Drug Use, Sex Pollen, Tea, Unprotected Sex, background Alexis Rose, background pizza, farm witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-10-10 18:46:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20532806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ICMezzo/pseuds/ICMezzo
Summary: Patrick samples a local Rosehip tea from the Apothecary. It really shouldn’t have been a problem.





	Brew, David

**Author's Note:**

> Please head the tags! Using the sex pollen trope inevitably means issues of consent will be in play. I’ve tried to handle it very carefully in this story, but please tread carefully or skip this fic entirely if this could be an issue for you. If you would like specific details, feel free to contact me directly. I can most easily be reached on Twitter @icmezzo.
> 
> Many thanks to Lettered for her thoughtful beta work, and thanks to Codswallop for her support and encouragement throughout the writing process.

Patrick emerged from the small storage room at Rose Apothecary just as David was starting to close the shop for the day. In one hand, Patrick carried paperwork that David knew was a stack of forms detailing the various orders they’d need to place the next morning. Patrick had spent the afternoon checking their inventory while David handled the register and steady flow of customers, as they’d been reasonably busy for a Thursday afternoon. In his other hand, Patrick held his favorite mug, one David had gotten him, thrown by a local potter and glazed in beautiful blues, creamy whites, and ruddy browns, the colors of Patrick himself.

Smiling a little to himself at the familiar but ever-welcome sight, David finished locking the front door and flipped the sign to “Closed” before heading back to the register himself.

“Have our products submitted to your unyielding calculations yet again this week?” he asked.

“It took some convincing,” Patrick said, resting the stack of papers on the counter by the till and setting his tea down beside them before allowing David to give him a quick peck on the lips. Refusing to be distracted, Patrick then gave David a look. “In fact, the wine was particularly reluctant to be reconciled… any chance Stevie was here in the last few days?”

David felt his mouth twist despite himself. “No. Nope. Uh uh.”

“Really,” Patrick said. “Because we’re two bottles short of the new Merlot this week.”

“What was I supposed to do? You left to play the baseball, and she practically forced her way in.”

“Uh huh,” Patrick said. “And did she force the corkscrew into one or two bottles?”

“Technically just one.” David found Patrick’s hand and started running his thumb over Patrick’s knuckles. “I had to fire her and take over after she broke the cork on the first one. But, on the plus side, I can now verify that the Merlot is excellent, and we should absolutely continue to stock it going forward.” David released Patrick’s hand and moved over to their wine selection.

“You know, we do need to save at least some of our inventory to actually sell.” Patrick took another sip from his mug, finishing the remainder that, judging by Patrick’s grimace, had long since cooled.

“Mmmhmm,” David said, distracted by several wine bottles in their display that had been moved and no longer faced the right direction. He carefully straightened them to his exacting standards as Patrick began to count the cash in the register so they could finish closing and head out. Feeling particularly magnanimous, David then retrieved a broom and thought about possibly maybe beginning to start to help sweep the floors as well. He was just about to start thinking about it when Patrick came up behind him and pulled him close, wrapping his arms around David’s waist and holding him snugly. David breathed out slowly, enjoying the moment.

“Hey,” Patrick said, the words breathed against the back of David’s neck. “Maybe we can skip sweeping up tonight.” He placed a little kiss on David’s shoulder before backing up enough so David could turn around to face him.

David tried to school his face into something resembling concern. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yes, I just…” Patrick’s eyes were dark and intent on David’s mouth. He blinked a few times and met David’s gaze. “It’s just that you look especially hot with that broom in your hands, pretending that you were actually going to help clean up.”

David’s mouth curled. “I see. So, when I’m feeling sexy, it’s all ‘No, David, we can’t lock up early so you can blow me behind the register—think of the customers!’ But when _you _are all hot and bothered, we can just forgo all those closing processes you documented on that little spreadsheet of yours so you can race home and fuck me against the front door of your apartment before I can even take off my shoes.”

Patrick huffed out a laugh. “We can’t close early every single day!”

“I don’t ask _every _day. Well, unfortunately for you, I refuse to compromise on presence of dust in the store, so if you want some of this—” David paused to bite his upper lip and give a little shimmy—“you’d better get sweeping.”

Except when he handed Patrick the broom, he found himself watching, amused, as Patrick took it and then disposed of it against the wall behind them just as quickly. When he turned back to David, Patrick’s eyes had dilated further, and the intensity of it made David’s breath catch.

“Leave it. Come home with me.” Patrick’s voice was low and sure.

David opened his mouth to respond, but words refused to come.

He swallowed and tried to gather himself. “Yes, well, I suppose dirt is basically sand and stone,” he said, amending his previously unremitting commitment to Rose Apothecary’s strict aesthetic. “Fine,” he said, heading to grab his things and make his way to the door. “You may whisk me away.”

As Patrick trailed a step behind him, shop keys jingling, David added over his shoulder, “But only if you absolutely swear to have your way with me.”

Patrick growled as he followed him out to the car, then getting them home in record time, driving well over the posted limits—usually more David’s style than his own—seemingly unable to get them inside his apartment fast enough. The moment the door was shut, Patrick peeled David’s bag from his fingers, dropped it carelessly on the floor, and pressed David back against the door, kissing him with a fervor that left him breathless. Patrick’s mouth was searing against his, and David felt himself open for him, letting Patrick’s tongue and heat and desire both warm and fill him. A shiver ran down his spine.

“Fuck,” David said, turning his head to the side as Patrick scraped his teeth along David’s jaw. Patrick had him pinned there, all that compact muscle, solid and unyielding; it left David squirming helplessly. Fuck, it was hot.

“David,” Patrick rasped, “I need you. I want you so much.”

“Mmhmm, yep. I can work with that,” David said. He tried to take a small step forward, but Patrick didn’t give an inch. David groaned as Patrick shoved him back up against the door, pleasure racing down his spine to pool low in his belly as Patrick grabbed one of his wrists and held it against the wood above David’s shoulder. Patrick’s forearms were mouth-watering, probably thanks to all the sports, though David would never admit it, and now one arm was positioned tantalizingly close to David’s face. He wanted to lick it, suck on that pale, muscly, corded flesh, tasting Patrick’s skin, salty after working all day. David’s mouth went dry. “I want…” he started to say. “I want—”

Patrick looked up at him, hungry and possessive, and pushed his pelvis against David’s to punctuate his desire before following it up with a kiss. David forgot about Patrick’s forearm then, because Patrick was eating him alive, devouring him, wet, and messy, and David loved it. He loved being consumed by Patrick, loved when Patrick’s desire was so explicit that even David’s near-constant riot of anxiety was dispelled. “I need you. Now, David, please, I need you.” Patrick made a needy sound after that, the sound that always made David want to fall straight to his knees.

“Yes, Patrick. Yes. Always, always yes,” David said, his words comprising more air and emotion than actual sound.

David had let others consume him, many others, before Patrick. He’d thought he loved it, when they took everything until there was nothing left of him to think or feel; he’d thought he needed it. He hadn’t known, hadn’t known at all. Because then Patrick came, and strode right through David’s extensive defenses simply by looking him with those warm brown eyes, sometimes demanding more than David knew he even had to give in the process. But when Patrick demanded everything, he gave David himself in return; Patrick consumed him, and David was left overflowing, so fulfilled he was left spilling over, sloshing feelings all over his life and everyone around him, too much to contain.

Drawn back to the present by Patrick’s fingers in his thick hair, David sucked in air, the feeling of those blunt fingertips against his scalp doing unspeakable things to his insides. Patrick groaned, and it coursed right through David.

Christ, this was already excellent sex, and no one had even undone a single button yet.

Then Patrick moaned into his mouth, and David’s knees felt weak. Dropping his head back against the door with just enough weight to feel it, David tried to center himself, but Patrick was already reaching up to recapture David’s lips, and David let himself get lost in it. “You’re mine,” Patrick said again and again between kisses as he began rutting against David’s thigh.

“Mmm,” David teased, “and did you want me to be yours right here? Am I yours against this door specifically, or was it any wall that would work? Or were you thinking more the bed, or…?”

David had turned his head slightly to free his lips enough to tease Patrick, so instead of kissing him squarely on the mouth, this time Patrick just went right for his jaw, mouth open, breath hot and humid along David’s sensitive skin, trailing over the thick stubble that had filled in since the day prior. David swallowed a soft groan, and Patrick pressed his hips harder into David’s in response to the sound, leaning in to suck on the tender skin by David’s throat.

“Here,” Patrick said, sounding a little choked. “Mine. Right here. Everywhere. You’re mine. I want—I want.”

“Yes, yes, honey. Of course,” David soothed. Smiling to himself since Patrick was otherwise engaged, David used his free hand to start to pull Patrick’s shirt from his jeans, and Patrick groaned, relinquishing David’s wrist to reach below David’s sweater, seeking the button on his pants, clothing being optional now that they were safely ensconced in his apartment. David let him paw at the top of his pants uselessly for a few moments before taking over. Unless there was a standard belt buckle or a pair of jeans in play, Patrick was effectively useless at clothing removal.

Attempting to steady him, David took Patrick’s hands and redirected them to the little buttons on the light blue shirt Patrick had worn that day, knowing Patrick could probably make at least some progress on those no matter how worked up he was, but Patrick started trembling and pulled free the moment David loosened his grip, reaching right back to David’s pants.

“I need. David, I need—” Patrick said, his voice a little high, sounding almost overwhelmed by his own desire.

“Okay, I have you. Why don’t you tell me what you need while I work on this,” he encouraged as he took on clothing removal.

Patrick shuddered. “I need you.”

Curious if Patrick would continue, David remained quiet.

Patrick did. “I need…I need your body. I don’t—I want. Want you to—Everything, David.” Then Patrick just sort of started clawing at his own shirt after all, trying to yank it over his head, and he was going to lose buttons if he wasn’t careful. David stopped what he was doing to undo just enough of the buttons at Patrick’s neck to prevent this, because even if he wouldn’t have minded if the shirt went straight in the trash, Patrick would have.

“Please,” he whined. “I need to touch you. Can you—I want to. Fuck.” His shirt off, Patrick then went right for David’s luxury cashmere, but David’s brain had nearly shorted out because Patrick had just dropped the f-bomb, and while somewhere in his brain David knew he should have prioritized it, his sweater was in second place by a mile. David should not have had to be the responsible one under such circumstances.

But then Patrick threw it over a kitchen chair, which. They’d been over this. David found himself unable to ignore it, and the result was he was only half paying attention to Patrick, who was now kissing him hungrily once again, running his hands over David’s chest, scratching those blunt nails along this skin, causing his skin to goose bump even as his thoughts remained stuck on his discarded sweater. It wasn’t too late to fix it, he decided. He could just take a moment to fold it, and it would be no worse for the brief maltreatment. He broke away. “Patrick, let me just fold—”

He didn’t get any further. Patrick had dropped his forehead to David’s chest, and was looking down as his hand found the front of David’s pants. He was feeling David, unquestionably hard even through the thick layers of fabric. Patrick moaned and pressed his palm against David’s length, cupping him.

“Please, can I—I need you; I need…I want to taste you. I want—can I suck you? I need you in my mouth. Need you in me. Please,” Patrick begged, his words laden with a desperation that made David forget his Givenchy knit entirely.

Patrick was beginning to wrestle ineffectively with the top of David’s pants again, too, no more able to undo them now than he could a year ago when he’d tried for the very first time. “Now, David, I need you now; I need you in me—in my mouth. I’m gonna suck you until you—David, I’m gonna suck you so good. I need to taste you. Oh god. Your skin, your…Christ, the way you start to drip whenever I—you leak all over. God, I need to taste it. That’s mine, all for me. Every drop. Don’t… don’t waste it, hurry. Open—faster. Hurry, I really need it—”

Fucking hell, Patrick was sounding like David’s brain at this point, and David suspected it was too late to help prevent at least some wasting, if his understanding of Patrick’s babbling was correct. Still, he undid the top of his pants, opening his fly as quickly as he could for both of their sakes, and Patrick had David’s underwear yanked down around his thighs, his cock out, and was stroking it in his fist before David could process what was happening.

Then Patrick sank to his knees right there on the shitty entryway linoleum, and David’s head clunked back against the door a second time as the perfect, warm, wet heat of Patrick’s mouth enveloped him. “Holy fuck,” David groaned, as Patrick chased the movements of his mouth with his fist in a sloppy rhythm. His tongue found David’s slit and the noise Patrick made when he tasted David was the one of hottest, sexiest sounds David had ever heard.

Patrick was sucking on him like he’d been starved for it. Fast and hard and desperately hungry. Pausing only briefly to lap at David’s length and tease his slit until David swore in response, Patrick wasted no more time before drawing him back into his silky warm mouth.

And then Patrick swallowed him down completely, and David lost his fucking mind, crying out at the perfect _too much_-ness of it all. He couldn’t think; he couldn’t _think. _He clutched at Patrick for dear life—his thick shoulders, the back of his neck, the short hair on the back of his head—as Patrick took him deep again and again.

David was going to die. Patrick was going to kill him. It was too good. David groaned long and loud, and Patrick’s hands tightened on David’s thighs. He definitely wasn’t long for this world. His hips bucked slightly, his cock enveloped by the raw wet heat of Patrick’s throat. What a way to go.

Patrick pulled off him then, sputtering and coughing a little, his mouth very, very sloppy, with a trail of wet connecting the tip of David’s cock to Patrick’s reddened mouth. The sight was enough to make the back of David’s skull find the door yet again. Patrick milked him with his fist a few times as he lathed at the inside of David’s thigh. He went back to sucking on David then, moving on and off him again with an audible pop, and David couldn’t help the sounds that were coming out of him.

Then Patrick took him deep once more, making a noise of pure contentment while David was buried in his throat, giving David the type of pleasure that dreams were made of, and here Patrick was basically thanking _him_ for it, the added vibrations enough to send David floating outside of himself. People talked of that, didn’t they, in near death experiences? He could see it, his tombstone.

Here lies  
David [unknown] Rose  
1983–2019  
Good _and _Nice  
Son, brother, friend, partner, lover—

Goddamn it; David’s toes curled in his shoes as Patrick swallowed around him, and he watched as Patrick choked on him, tracing his thumb over Patrick’s hollowed cheek, and David was going to come so fucking hard. Patrick simply hummed in response, eventually releasing him and breathing deeply before doing it all over again.

“Mine,” Patrick said whenever he pulled off, as though David would ever dream of contesting it. His voice was low and jagged from David’s cock, which jumped in recognition. The reaction caught Patrick’s attention, and he began to stroke him more intentionally again. “_Mine._”

Patrick had taken David’s cock in his mouth again, sucking hard, his tongue flat against the underside, and he was making these filthy wet sounds as he moaned around him. It was seriously pressing every one of David’s buttons. Consecutively, one after another, in a row.

“Fuck,” David whispered. “Fuck fucking fuck. Your _mouth._”

“Still not sloppy,” Patrick contributed, fisting David’s cock as he did so. It was wet and slick from the combination of David’s copiously leaking cock and Patrick’s mouth.

“Nope. I take back everything I ever said about it being clean,” David said. “In fact, I’ve never seen such a hungry, filthy mouth.”

Visibly shuddering, Patrick moaned, high and needy, before sucking hard on David’s hip as he continued to jerk him off. David smiled to himself and continued, “It’s mine, that mouth. I’ll keep it anyway, even if it’s very, very dirty.”

Patrick twitched and made a broken sound, and his coordination seemed to disappear entirely for several seconds. “David. _David_.” He sounded like he was in agony, and he soon dropped his head again to rest his face against David’s hip. Eventually, he trailed his lips over the sensitive skin back toward the base of David’s cock, alternately kissing and nipping and sucking at David’s skin, shooting glances up at David as he did so. The look in Patrick’s eyes was equally ravenous and possessive.

Suddenly a tidal wave of need washed over David. “I think I need to come, Patrick. I need you to touch me. Make me come.” David’s orgasm was absolutely going to shake every single square inch of him, each overstimulated nerve from his ears to his ankles caught up in the wild shuddering release.

“Mine,” Patrick growled, immediately taking hold of David’s cock once more—first in his hand and then eagerly into his mouth, skillfully taking David apart with the relentless combination.

Removing his mouth with a slurp that David found insanely sexy, Patrick looked up. “I need it—I need you on my tongue. I want to suck you dry.”

David felt like his head was going to explode. It was too much. He couldn’t contain his moan. “Fuck,” he said, breathy. “Patrick.”

Following the twist of his hand with his eyes as he continued to pull David off, Patrick groaned loudly. “I want—I need it. Please, I need your—I need you to come. In my mouth.” He sounded like he might die if David didn’t, and that brought David to the very end of his self-control, his orgasm now unstoppable.

Patrick didn’t wait for a response before opening his sloppy perfect lips and taking David into his throat, swallowing around him, and David gasped, his fingers in Patrick’s hair, clutching on for dear life. “Patrick. _Patrick._ _PatrickPatrickPatrick_. Please, I’m gonna come.”

Patrick pulled off just in time, releasing him so David could come directly in his mouth, on his tongue. David’s orgasm was sharp, every muscle in his body contracting and releasing violently, and he pinched his eyes tight, completely overwhelmed as he cried out and emptied himself into Patrick’s _sweetfilthyperfect _mouth. It was all he could do not to fuck Patrick’s beautiful face as his hips jerked uncontrollably through his release. Patrick stroked him through it, swallowing his orgasm as David came and came and came, and then sucking the last of his come from him like some sort of treat.

His heart pounded wildly in his chest, but the moments after were stretched for David. Eventually he realized Patrick’s hand was still stroking him lightly, but he had sat down on the floor and seemed more relaxed, his head resting against David’s thigh, and David knew without checking that Patrick was still watching his cock intently, his eyes tracing the same path as his fingers as they moved gently over David. Glancing down, David caught Patrick licking his lips as he continued to study David, and David felt his overstimulated dick twitch in response.

He heard Patrick make a soft sound and then lick David’s slit where a drop of moisture just had appeared. _Fucking hell._

Then David noticed Patrick’s eyes were a little wet. “Oh, honey,” David said. “Honey.”

Patrick’s voice was rough, and he shrugged bashfully. “Thank you. I don’t know why I needed that so badly.”

His chest tightening, David realized couldn’t go without Patrick in his arms a moment longer. He gently moved Patrick’s hands aside and tucked himself away in his underwear before pulling up his pants enough to join Patrick on the floor. He took Patrick’s hand in his and kissed it, then kissed his lips, again and again.

Now they were both sloppy, and it was perfect.

After a little while, David began stroking Patrick’s thigh, the coarse denim separating his hand from the skin he always wanted under his fingers. He teased at the top of Patrick’s jeans, hooking his finger in at Patrick’s side. “Can I…?”

Patrick, who had initially been flushed from exertion when David had sat down with him, had been returning to his normal color, but at David’s words, he began to redden again. His mouth opened then closed.

“I mean, I don’t have to—” David started to say, “if you’re not in the mood, or…”

An audible huff of air made David look back at Patrick.

“Oh, that’s definitely not the problem,” he said wryly. “I was a little too into it.”

David blinked. “You mean. You. But you didn’t even—” _You didn’t even touch yourself, _David’s mind supplied. If he hadn’t just come so hard his brains had evacuated his body by way of his dick, he swore he’d be hardening all over again. Even as it was, he felt himself shiver a little.

“Yeah,” Patrick chuckled, awkwardly, a little forced, a little embarrassed. “You were really hot. And I guess I just. Really, really needed it.”

“I’d say so,” David said, and kissed him gently a few times on his mouth, forehead, and above his ear, comforting him. “That’s so fucking hot, by the way,” he whispered against the side of his head. “Like, really, really fucking hot.”

Realizing then how uncomfortable he was on the cold hard floor after only a few minutes, he got to his feet, pulling Patrick up with him. “C’mere,” he murmured, and Patrick followed him quietly into the bedroom and over to the bed. He seemed boneless, and even a little dazed, and David certainly understood the feeling, but he seemed to be in the better shape of the two of them, so David helped Patrick take off his shoes and clothes, helped him clean up, and then practically held him upright as he managed to pull clean underwear up over his hips. Patrick then watched, eyes hooded, as David also took off everything but his own underwear. Finally, David flopped down on the bed, pulling Patrick in tight beside him, entwining their bodies together in the way that they’d come to prefer, with a blanket over them to keep them comfortable.

Except Patrick dozed off, and David got bored not long after, followed by hungry and shortly thereafter by restless, especially because Patrick was no longer awake to ask about what description he should use on his tombstone, so eventually he slowly extricated himself from Patrick’s arms, threw on an undershirt and wandered into the kitchen to dig his phone out of his bag. Maybe Patrick could go to bed without dinner, but he certainly couldn’t. He lovingly folded his sweater—finally—and found some pants to pull on as he waited for the sound of the doorbell and the smell of grease and cheese.

*****

As David was eating his second—okay, third. Fine, fourth—slice of pizza, Patrick slowly sat up, looking all soft and warm and fuzzy as he straightened the blanket that had gotten tangled around him. “Smells good,” he said. “What time is it?” he asked, looking around for his phone.

“Just after eight. Come have some,” David suggested. “It’s still warm.”

Patrick nodded then sluggishly got to his feet to find some sweatpants and a t-shirt before finally padding over to David and sitting down across from him at the small table as David finished off his final slice.

“Want anything to drink?” David asked, refilling his own water and getting a glass for Patrick without waiting for an answer.

“Thanks,” Patrick said.

After taking a long drink, Patrick put his glass down and asked, “Okay, what?”

“What?” David asked.

“Your mouth. It’s doing things. What’s so funny?”

David could feel his mouth do more things.

“David.”

“It’s not—it’s nothing. Nothing’s funny,” David said. “Honestly.”

Patrick looked at him plainly.

“Fine,” David said. “It’s just that your voice is rough. From before. And lower than normal. It’s_ incredibly _sexy.”

Patrick flushed, and took another long drink of water. “Yes, well.” He cleared his throat.

“I’ll make you tea,” David decided, getting up and refilling the kettle. He turned it on and retrieved Patrick’s favorite home mug. “I don’t want tomorrow’s customers knowing what depraved things you did to me against that door.”

“Better add some honey, then,” Patrick advised, in between bites of pizza. “I don’t think plain tea will do it. You have a very large cock.” He blinked innocently.

“That’s true,” David said, handing him a napkin. “Should I put on more water? You might need more than one cup.”

“Let’s see how it goes,” Patrick agreed.

Even though he’d be sorry to see Patrick’s sex-roughened voice go, David found the honey too, and, congratulating himself on his selflessness, he set it on the counter and waited for the water to boil. “Which tea do you want? The chamomile?” he asked as he looked through Patrick’s selection in the cupboard beside the stove, because Patrick sometimes liked the awful grassy-tasting ones at night.

“Yes, please—actually, wait, no. I have more of that sample from the store in my bag. Let me get it.” Patrick got up to get it before David could do it himself, returning shortly thereafter and handing David a little baggie with some tea bags in it.

“What kind is it?” David sniffed at one before dropping it into Patrick’s mug while the water started to boil.

“Rose hip,” Patrick said, watching David add the water into his mug. “It came in this morning.”

“Well,” David said doubtfully as Patrick stood to begin wrapping up the last of the pizza for them to take to the store for lunch the next day. “As long as you like it—shit.” David cringed as he saw all the little tea bits floating freely in the water.

Patrick peeked over his shoulder and huffed a small laugh into David’s shoulder blade, his breath warm through David’s thin undershirt. “Why don’t you finish putting away the pizza and I’ll get the strainer and see if I can salvage this. They aren’t quite as forgiving as the mass-produced ones.”

Acquiescing readily enough, David handed off the rest of the tea-making bits and bobs and returned to finish getting the remaining pizza covered and into the fridge. Pizza, he could handle. He was at home with pizza. At one with pizza. Pizza, he knew; it was one of the most intimate relationships in his life.

He paused. Maybe he should have another slice. Half a slice, anyway. There might still be enough for lunch, as long as Patrick didn’t want any.

“Do you mind if I put the game on?” Patrick asked as he waited for his tea to steep.

David didn’t mind and said as much to Patrick as he wrapped up the rest of the pizza after all. He hadn’t made much progress in his book recently, so he was happy to read. As Patrick settled onto the couch with the remote and his tea, David took his water and Balmain autobiography to the bed and made himself comfortable.

He’d gotten through roughly fifteen pages when he noticed Patrick get up and turn off the television. “Did they win?” David asked absently, much more because Patrick liked to be asked than because David cared in the slightest.

“It’s not over yet,” Patrick said, taking his mug to the sink and rinsing it out. “I thought I’d take a shower, then maybe catch the last few innings.”

David acknowledged this development with a vague “hmm” before flipping the page to start the next chapter.

Twenty minutes later, somewhat longer than usual, but still not nearly as long as David himself took in the bathroom, Patrick came back out, shirtless with damp hair and smelling like the Apothecary’s popular lavender shampoo; the scent was always so nice on Patrick. David barely looked up until Patrick came over to his side of the bed and sat down.

“You’re done watching after all?” he asked eventually.

“I, uh, couldn’t concentrate,” Patrick said.

“Well,” David said, “it is sports after all.”

“I was thinking it might be nice to spend some time with you, but now I’m not so sure.” Patrick pretended he was about to get up from the bed, so, using his book flap to mark the page, David closed his book.

“You might as well stay. I was having trouble concentrating myself.”

“Well,” Patrick said, leaning over and pointedly examining the back cover, “it is a biography for a fashion designer after all.”

“Oh honey, you have so much to learn.”

“Maybe tomorrow,” Patrick said, pulling David in and tucking him against his bare chest. He idly trailed a finger up and down David’s arm.

“Maybe tomorrow,” David echoed, allowing Patrick to pull him in close. He could hear Patrick’s heart beating steady and strong against his ear and felt himself start to relax.

Patrick’s hand drifted down to David’s side, and he was still sort of lightly petting him, but more of his hand was involved, and it had started to feel somehow…intentional.

Looking up quizzically, David found Patrick was already watching him intently, his eyes heavy. David’s mouth twitched as he raised an eyebrow at him. “Did those Blue Birds get you all worked up again?” he teased, because baseball was the least sexy thing David could imagine—at least, when Patrick wasn’t playing anyway. Or maybe it was sexy, but it just put David to sleep before he could notice. He’d spent some time contemplating various catchers’ muscular thighs when he’d first started dating Patrick and tried to watch games with him, but then David went to an actual game of Patrick’s, and _Roland_ was catching for the other team, and that was the end of that.

Patrick chuckled a little, low and rumbly in his chest. “I think it’s these sweatpants of yours.” Patrick slid his fingers down over David’s undershirt where it had gotten rucked up and into the waistband of his pants. “I had several impure thoughts about them in the shower.”

“My…sweatpants.” The only thing less sexy than baseball were his well-worn sleep pants. Only Patrick and the pizza delivery person were even allowed to see them, and that was mostly because they provided the most leeway when pizza was on the menu. Sometimes allowances had to be made.

“Mmmhmm, they’re really hot.” Patrick was now slipping his hand over David’s hip beneath the elastic band.

“Okay but they’re not?”

“Shhh, David,” Patrick said then, sliding down lower in the bed and pressing a kiss to David’s mouth.

“But—” His mouth quirked up.

Patrick cut him off with another, harder kiss.

Now David was smiling too hard to take anything seriously, except Patrick was still kissing him, but he wasn’t laughing along as usual. David sighed into Patrick; he supposed he could be convinced to make out properly for awhile, like an adult. He kissed Patrick back, pausing only to flip his book over on his nightstand so Balmain’s author photo on the book jacket wasn’t watching them. Pierre had already seen his sweatpants as David had been reading, so it was too late for that.

Patrick soon had David’s mouth open and was kissing and licking him hungrily as David breathed deeply into it—fuck, and now his hands were on David’s ass, and that inevitably got David going every time. Something Patrick was well aware of.

Which meant Patrick was _trying _to get him going. He didn’t just want to make out for awhile; Patrick wanted to have sex. Again. Sure, sometimes they did it twice, but rarely on a weeknight after a long day at work.

“God, I need you,” Patrick said breathlessly into his shoulder.

David pulled back. “Hey,” he interrupted, saying another louder “hey” so Patrick would stop grinding against David’s thigh to look at him. When he finally did, David ran his hand through Patrick’s hair. They’d had to get to work that morning even earlier than usual for a delivery from vendor who kept ungodly hours. “Aren’t you tired?” David pretty much always loved sex, but even he was borderline exhausted, and he’d barely had to do a thing the first time except hold on for the ride.

“I…I napped. I had a nap. I’m not—I want—”

David smiled at him fondly, and wrapped his arms around Patrick, pulling him closer. “Well all right then, as long as you’re sure.”

“I’m sure; I’m so sure.” Patrick had returned to grinding on David’s seriously unsexy sweatpants-clad leg, pausing only to nibble at David’s ear.

Even as close as Patrick was, David barely heard what he said next, the words ghosting over his ear.

“David, I want you to fuck me.”

David’s breath hitched. That word again. Who was this Patrick and what had they done with his boyfriend? “And by ‘fuck’ you mean…”

Bringing David’s hand to his mouth, Patrick kissed his palm and then dragged it up so he could slide one of David’s fingers into his mouth and began sucking on it messily. When he released it, it made a small pop. Low but very, very sure, Patrick leaned back down to David’s ear and said, “Fuck me, David. I need you inside of me.”

The deep groan that emerged from his throat expressed the desperate surge of desire that rushed through him, and David head himself say, “Patrick, yes.”

Patrick sat up, knelt over David, and began to yank David’s undershirt over his head, immediately dropping back down to David’s chest to lick and suck at his nipple. He scraped his fingers through the thick hair of David’s chest as he teased David with his tongue. He couldn’t be sure, but David had always suspected he was more sensitive there than many people. Patrick grazed his nipple with his teeth, and he felt a zingy sensation shoot straight down to his dick. Switching to his right nipple, Patrick began to tease that one too, paying it even more attention because Patrick was a little shit who’d discovered it was even more responsive. David had already started to thicken from that alone when Patrick finally left a trail of open kisses down from David's chest to his stomach until he was nearly bent double and couldn’t reach further, arched as he was. He kissed David wetly, hungrily, before sitting back up.

The way Patrick shifted as he changed positions meant David could feel exactly how hard Patrick was. It was equally obvious he hadn’t bothered to put on underwear. David grasped his ass through the soft thin material, clutching the rounded flesh that fit so perfectly in his hands.

Patrick moaned, loud and wanton, and David’s desire ratcheted up at the sound. He felt himself grow harder.

“David, please.” Patrick rocked a bit over David’s lap. “I need you—” Patrick paused and felt David through his pants. “Fuck, I love your cock.”

David’s cock was fond of Patrick as well, which was very convenient. In fact, the rest of David very much wanted to kiss it and rub it all over him and then taste it—fuck, David’s mouth had gone dry; he wanted to suck Patrick, taste him. He hadn’t gotten to earlier, and he’d do it good, really, really good for Patrick; he’d suck him down, swallow him whole, take that thick velvet cock right down his throat until he was gagging on it—

“David, please,” Patrick whined, rolling his hips as much as he could while he continued to palm David, cupping him through his pants, but the silky underwear not nearly the right texture. “I need you in me. I want you to—please, David, nice and deep, just like you always do. Put it in me. You make me feel so good—I love when you put it inside me. Fill me—fuck, David, I—fill me with it—can you…I need…”

“Okay,” David said, overwhelmed by this new—and informative—litany of requests. Lust washed over him in waves in response to Patrick’s increasing desperation. He moved his hands to Patrick’s waist, guiding him off his lap and onto the bed. He nudged Patrick so he’d lay down with his head on his pillow. Then, lifting his hips, David slid Patrick’s pajama pants down over his cock, which bobbed free, red and throbbing, to rest against his pale stomach. David found himself unable to resist the chance to taste Patrick and breath him deep into his lungs, all soapy and clean-smelling from his shower. He inhaled at the crook of Patrick’s thigh, eager for the scent that of him that lingered there. He savored it. Exhaled slowly.

Then, without further warning, he licked a long stripe up along the underside of Patrick’s cock.

Patrick’s hands flew to David’s head and he gasped.

David smiled and placed a kiss on the tip of Patrick’s cock. It dribbled in response, so David licked that up too, and Patrick cried out loudly, desperately. David’s name was one of the only discernable words amongst the nonsense coming from his mouth.

Taking a moment to place a pillow beneath Patrick’s hips and spread his legs wide, his knees bent, David took the head of Patrick’s cock into his mouth. Patrick sucked in harsh mouthfuls, grasping uselessly at David’s shoulders, so David teased him some more, giving him little licks and light kisses along his length, occasionally giving his balls some attention before returning to take Patrick into his mouth, but always pulling off again before Patrick could become fully accustomed to the sensation.

David then dragged a dry fingertip over Patrick’s entrance, but even he was not prepared for Patrick’s whole-body response: he started shaking, yanking desperately at David’s hair, grabbing thick handfuls of it. And the way he said David’s name… David had never heard him so worked up before, so desperate, so needy.

“Fuck,” David said breathily as Patrick continued to tremble gorgeously before him. He licked his fingertip and did it again, his wetness making the path of his finger a little easier, and David watched Patrick’s hole move in response. Realizing he how uncomfortably hard he’d grown, he shifted between Patrick’s legs.

“Please. _Please._ I—can you…David, _please_. I need you to. Please, put your… I need you.”

Because Patrick would forever pay for suggesting David wasn’t _nice,_ he teased around Patrick’s hole a few more times with two spit-slicked fingertips before giving into Patrick’s begging and retrieving the lube from the nightstand. Pouring some over his fingers, he got into position again to open Patrick up, gently pressing in with his fingertip. He met almost no resistance.

Patrick was already open.

He was already wet inside.

He was already _wet. _Patrick had gotten himself ready. In the shower. Patrick had put his fingers inside of himself and…_fuck._ He should _not_ be allowed to do that without David getting to watch.

David swallowed. “You’re—You.” It was so fucking hot; David could not deal. He drew his finger back out and pushed it back in again, deep as he could, watching as he slid it in and out of Patrick, slick and wet and so easy. He watched his ring disappear into Patrick’s entrance and felt his mouth water. He withdrew his finger slowly, swallowing hard at the glistening wetness. He added a second finger, and Patrick shuddered and clutched at the back of David’s neck as he did so.

He was so loose. Patrick was so loose. David could have just shoved his cock right into him. Fucking hell, this was—David didn’t know. He didn’t know what this was. He couldn’t even think, and Patrick just kept babbling and scratching his blunt nails over David’s neck, along his scalp. Begging for more.

Patrick took three fingers. Took them right into himself as far as David could go, took as much as David’s fingers could give him. He teased Patrick’s reddened rim with his other hand, tracing along his greedy hole as he fucked in and out of Patrick with his fingers. He swallowed again. It was absolutely filthy…David was so turned on. He loved it so much, loved how much Patrick needed him. He went back to two fingers then, pressing into him strategically as Patrick continued to fill his head with pleas for more. He added more lube, just to make things messier—sex was the only time _messier_ was much, much better—and then used some to stroke Patrick’s cock a few times, leaving it nice and slippery too.

Patrick was really hard, twitching at the slightest touch, his cock blushed deep red. He must have been almost painfully hard. David stroked Patrick another few times before allowing Patrick to take over, pulling at his cock, practiced and sure. David really loved Patrick jerking himself off, loved seeing how Patrick did things to his own body, the casual way he handled himself, what he liked. David loved it so much. Patrick should do it more for him. He probably would if he knew how much David liked it. He’d probably kneel over David’s chest and pull himself off inches from David’s face without letting David touch or taste him at all, and holy fucking hell, David was going to come approximately three seconds after he fucked into Patrick at this rate. David watched Patrick stroke himself a few more times anyway before leaning up between Patrick’s spread knees far enough to kiss up his chest and neck to his mouth, where Patrick easily found David’s tongue with his, and David was lost in it. He was so lost.

When he finally broke free and sat back, Patrick clutched at his upper arm, squeezing hard. “Now, David, put it in me, please, I can. I’m ready. I want you, please. I can take it, I can—I need…It’s—I can feel how wet I am, how much wetter you made me. Please, _Christ. _I just…I need your cock so badly, I need it in me so deep.” Patrick swallowed and added, somehow even more desperately, “All of it, so, so deep, until all of you is so deep in me—and then I want you to come in me. Oh god, I need you to. I need you to come deep inside me. Christ. _Christ_. _Please, _David,” Patrick practically sobbed.

David thought Patrick had been a mess earlier; now he looked positively wrecked. Everything about him was obscenely open and wet. Swollen and hungry for him. Every inch of his pale body was begging to be fucked by David’s cock, and David couldn’t have resisted another minute if he wanted to.

David had his pants off in less than half a second, sweatpants being the only garment that was acceptable to leave in a messy heap on the floor, even if they were technically luxury designer sweats.

He added some additional lube to his hand and quickly stroked his cock a few times before tearing open a condom.

“Wait,” Patrick said. “Don’t use one.”

This did make David pause. Going without wasn’t exactly the most common thing for them, even if only because it was messy. They’d been tested, so that wasn’t an issue, and David really wanted it that way sometimes, and, well, it wasn’t entirely unprecedented for Patrick either. David was just far more often the one who wanted to feel all debased, filthy with bits of Patrick dripping out of him like he was a—David never knew why he wanted what he wanted. Maybe instead of his typical fastidiousness, Patrick just wanted to be a little dirty tonight. He did seem to be in an unusual mood.

_Fuck._ Bare.

“Are you sure?” David’s anxiety meant he had to double check, but he was already setting the opened condom aside because he knew Patrick wouldn’t have stopped him the first time if he wasn’t positive of what he wanted.

“Yes, please, I want to feel you in me, I want you to—fuck me.” Patrick had his eyes pinched shut tight and had pulled his legs back further, the new angle leaving him even more exposed, and David could see Patrick open his hole in anticipation. Holy fucking hell. This was the same Patrick who_ still_ sometimes got tongue-tied trying to say _fuck. _David loved him so much, even if he was equal parts cinnamon roll, spreadsheet, and troll, and, okay, Patrick had no right to be looking at David like that, eyes dark and pleading, a gorgeous flush running down his neck, mouth parted, lips wet… all the while his cock lay heavy and largely neglected on his abdomen, and still all he did was spread his legs still further so David could see his dripping hole begging for him.

David’s brain temporarily whited out. “Yes, okay, yes, of course,” he said as much to himself as Patrick. David knelt in between Patrick’s spread legs, his cock brushing against Patrick’s thigh and making him shudder in the process. “I’m going to make you feel so good,” David said, pressing his thumb into Patrick’s ass, just because he could, because he wanted to watch it disappear inside Patrick. Because he wanted to see how Patrick would drip lube when he pulled it back out again. “Just like you like it.”

“I want you to fuck me. Come in me. I want your come so deep inside me, every drop—all of it. Deep inside of me, I need it…Please, I’m so—I need. I _need. _Christ, I need—I need it.”

David didn’t hesitate again. He lined himself up easily, and then fed Patrick his slickened cock in one long smooth stroke, and Patrick took him, holding himself wide and begging for more the whole time, his gorgeous ass swallowing David’s cock until he was buried, the overwhelming satin heat tight all around him. David cursed as he bottomed out and tried to hold himself steady. Patrick was panting hard; he may have been stretched and wet, but no matter what he’d done in the shower, he hadn’t had a whole cock in him. Patrick fisted his cock a few times as David worked on breathing in and out.

Then Patrick clenched down hard around him, moaning unchecked as David filled him, and David thought he might come on the spot, he was so turned on. When Patrick finally released him, David braced himself over Patrick and began to fuck into him, long and slow, and so, so deep.

Patrick was shaking. “Yes, David, yes. God, you feel so good in me. Your cock—_Christ, just like that_—it’s so good. Feels so good. More. Please, more.”

Shifting slightly so his weight helped Patrick support his legs, David leaned down and let Patrick kiss him, his perfect, clean, yet so, so sloppy mouth tilting up to catch David’s lips as David continued to thrust slowly and steadily, trying to keep control enough to last at least a few minutes for Patrick. Patrick was writhing beneath him, though, apparently unsatisfied by David’s slower pace, and that wouldn’t do, so David gave Patrick a final kiss and lifted himself off for better leverage. He held Patrick’s thighs back and began fucking him in earnest, canting his hips in a rhythm that left them both panting, breathless, and the intensity with which Patrick had begun to cling to him was overwhelming, like he couldn’t get enough even when David was in him as deeply as he could be. It was too much, much too much. It was perfect.

“Fuck, Patrick, I can’t get enough of you…the way you wanted it so badly you just sucked me right in—it was so fucking sexy. You couldn’t wait to get me inside of you. So goddamn hot.”

“I couldn’t—I needed. I need...”

“It’s all yours, I promise.” David said as he rested Patrick’s leg back on the bed and used his free hand to stroke Patrick’s thigh, then along his side. Slowing his pace, he started to tease Patrick’s nipple with his thumb, but Patrick simply grabbed his hand and clutched it tightly. He brought their hands up to his lips so he could run his mouth over their knuckles.

“Harder, fuck me harder. Harder, oh god. I need you. I need it. I need your come.”

David huffed out a laugh and started thrusting harder, establishing a much faster rhythm. “Not gonna be a problem.” Patrick was grunting beneath him with every thrust.

David loved fucking. He loved Patrick. And he definitely loved fucking Patrick. He loved when Patrick fucked him. He loved everything. Everything with Patrick. Sex was better. After sex was better. Everything was better. Except maybe clothes shopping. Clothes shopping with Patrick wasn’t exactly—well, he might have a prayer of lasting a few more minutes if he kept thinking about it anyway.

He didn’t want to think about it, not with Patrick spread out so deliciously beneath him. He was reddened and sweaty and his muscles, clearly visible, flexed and moved in ways that drove David wild. He should never let Patrick get dressed again. That way David could watch the way those muscles powered Patrick’s strong, compact frame. David wanted it. He wanted it.

Patrick was grunting with every stroke, and it was basically pornographic, much louder and demonstrative than he normally was. “Harder, please, right there,” Patrick said then in a strained voice, pulling his hand free from David’s and grabbing at the blankets piled up around them with both hands, as though to ground himself in his bed. Their bed.

He was gorgeous.

David wrapped his hands around Patrick’s waist and plowed into him mercilessly.

“David—Oh god, just like that. Fuck_._ David, just like—David-david-david-david—_Fuck_.” Patrick gasped out the last word, and it took a second for David to realize Patrick was coming. Had he even been touching himself? Quickly, David reached for Patrick’s cock and began stroking him through the remainder of his orgasm, slowing his hips to fuck him through it with deep, steady strokes. Patrick’s cock pulsed in David’s hand, his hips giving little jerks as more come dribbled out over David’s fingers. There wasn’t much as Patrick had come once already, but David took every last bit that Patrick gave him, spreading it on Patrick’s cock, around the rim of Patrick’s hole which still clenched erratically around him. He found a drop on his wrist, so he licked that up himself as Patrick watched, still half lost in his orgasm.

David gave Patrick’s cock a final loving stroke, loving the way Patrick shivered and reached for him and pulled him down to kiss him as he did it. David smiled into it; his lips quirked up helplessly as Patrick smashed his mouth against David. “You do realize we’re going to talk later about how you love my cock so much you came twice tonight from that alone,” David pointed out when he sat back again on his heels.

“I can’t get enough of you. It feels like I could never get enough.” Patrick swallowed hard. “Like I’ll always need more.”

“Sounds pretty great to me,” David said. Experimentally, he rocked his hips just a little, his cock still inside Patrick. “Should I—” David wasn’t sure whether to pull out. Sometimes Patrick didn’t love being fucked after he’d come. There was a good chance Patrick might be done now that he was coming down from his second orgasm of the night. He started to pull out, but Patrick immediately reached down to David’s waist to still him.

“Please, I need—I still—please fuck me. I need you to come inside me. I need it. I need it so much.”

David leaned down and scraped his teeth along Patrick’s shoulder before kissing him, rolling his hips enough to make Patrick moan into his mouth. Before resuming his position, he murmured low into Patrick’s ear, “Oh, I’ll come in you, honey. You keep milking my cock with your ass like that, and I’ll paint your insides with it. I’ll put it so deep inside you—” David started fucking harder—“you’ll be full of me for days.”

“Yes, _God yes_,_”_ Patrick said.

Pulling out after all, David nudged Patrick’s hip, asking him to roll over onto his stomach and then get to his knees. David adjusted the pillows, so Patrick’s head rested prettily on one with his ass in the air.

David spit on the pad of his thumb and pushed it into Patrick’s stretched hole, swollen and red and wet and—oh fuck, David could probably come just from playing with Patrick’s ass. He pulled his thumb out and pressed two other fingers in, unable to help himself as Patrick whimpered into his pillow. Licking his other palm, David reached between Patrick’s legs to his softened cock, playing with it a little as he fingered him. Patrick was so wet for him, and his pleas had grown steadily louder and more desperate as David fucked him with his fingers.

David removed his fingers and released Patrick’s cock. Spreading Patrick’s cheeks further, he dragged his cock up and down between them, his cockhead gliding right over Patrick’s entrance because of how slick and slippery it was.

Finally, _finally, _David guided his cock back in.

The pace he adopted was relentless, and Patrick buried his face in the pillow, panting and gasping as David took him, unable to hold himself back any longer, dying to come. He ran his hands over Patrick’s flank, comforting him even as he used him, and Patrick just begged for more—begged for his cock, for his come, for David to plug him up with his cock so none of it could escape.

David’s nerves were fried before he even came, his second orgasm of the evening slow to crest to the point where it was almost painful.

When it did, finally, he thrust into Patrick as deeply as he could, an exhausted cry tearing itself from his throat, his hips juddering as his balls emptied into the perfect exquisite heat wrapped around him like a Tom Ford glove.

“David, are—oh fuck, you are, I can feel it, I can—oh fuck, that’s it, give it to me. Oh fuck, oh _fuck. _It feels so good, oh god, it’s so good inside me._”_

Meanwhile David was nearly sobbing with the relief of his release, barely managing to stay upright until eventually he couldn’t even do that, so he draped himself over Patrick’s back, utterly exhausted, his cock still buried and pulsing weakly, completely overstimulated and more spent than the rest of him put together.

“Patrick,” he tried to say, burying his face in Patrick’s back, between his shoulder blades. “Patrick.”

Somehow Patrick lay down, David still on top of him, without causing David to slip free. When he finally softened enough that it was inevitable, David rolled over onto the bed, lying on his back, too exhausted to care even about cleaning them up. He was glad Patrick couldn’t make conversation either, so they were quiet beside each other for a few much-needed minutes. After some time, Patrick’s heavy breathing slowed to normal and evened out too.

“Fuck,” David said eventually. “That was…fuck.”

When Patrick didn’t respond, David looked over to find his head was turned away. He gave a contented little sigh, though, so David relaxed again.

Not thirty seconds later, Patrick was snoring lightly. David chuckled to himself, leaning over to place a little kiss on his shoulder before going to the bathroom to clean up. When he emerged, Patrick was still deep asleep, apparently unbothered by any wetness or mess, so David decided they could deal with the sheets and everything else in the morning.

He turned out the lights, set his alarm, and lay down, letting the darkness sink into his body and mind, hoping sleep would find him just as quickly. Taking a deep breath, he opened his mind and let thoughts pass through him.

_Fuck,_ he thought once more, before he turned over onto his side and passed out too.

*********

Some time later David woke to Patrick tugging at his shoulder. “David,” he begged, panic in his voice. “Wake up, David.”

“Mmmm, wha—huh?” David tried to figure out what was going on. He flicked on the light by the bed and rolled over to face Patrick who was tense beside him. “What’s wrong?”

“I can feel it coming out. You said—you said you’d put it in me so deeply that it would be in me for days. But it’s not…it’s coming out already.”

“I…what?” David asked, confused. “It’s one a.m.” He was sorely tempted to be grumpy, but he couldn’t quite get there before verifying that Patrick was completely okay.

“Your come, I can feel it coming out of me.”

David blinked and tried to figure out what was going on. “You’re the one who didn’t want to use a condom,” he pointed out. What exactly had Patrick thought was going to happen?

“But I need it inside me. All of it. But it’s coming out, David. I—help me.” Patrick’s face matched the desperation in his voice, and David found himself unsure how to respond. Patrick had never wanted anything like this before, never acted like this, not at all. In fact, it was much more David’s style to do something like beg for…

He knew what to do.

He’d do exactly what he wished someone had done for him. Maybe someone actually had, at some point, when he’d been like this, but he just couldn’t remember now because of whatever substances he’d had running through his veins at the time. But Patrick would remember, and he’d remember that David had taken good care of him, given him exactly what he needed, because David understood. He understood, he understood, he understood. He wiped the traces of sleep from his eyes and took a solidifying breath.

“Okay,” David said, cupping the back of Patrick’s neck. “I’ve got you.” David gave him a little kiss on the forehead. “Roll onto your stomach for me.”

Patrick whimpered as he did so, but David didn’t take his hand off him for a second. He ran his palm comfortingly over Patrick’s upper arm as he got settled and then down over the curve of his back, settling finally in the valley of his lower back. One hand still on Patrick, he flicked on his bedside lamp to the lowest setting, then pulled their blankets out of the way. When David removed the sheet that had still covered them somewhat until that point, Patrick made a soft noise, and David’s throat tightened when he saw that Patrick’s legs were tight together and his glutes mercilessly clenched. His poor boy.

“I need…it’s—I can feel it, I need.”

“I know, honey. I know.” David reached for Patrick’s hip with his other hand. “Can you get to your knees for me?”

A sobbing sound tore itself from Patrick’s throat, but he did as David asked, and let David guide him up onto his knees before letting him drop his head back down low against his pillow. David rubbed his lower back. “There you go. Good job. Look at you, so gorgeous for me.”

He sat behind Patrick then, who reluctantly opened his legs so David could sit between his ankles. He pressed a kiss to Patrick’s ass as he ran his hand down his flank.

“All right, let’s see what we’re dealing with here, okay?” David gave his back another comforting rub and then used his nails to scratch a path to Patrick’s ass, still visibly tensed. “It’s okay; I’ve got you. Can you open up for me?” At this, Patrick made another whining sound and clenched his cheeks tighter. “Come on, baby, show me.”

There was a moment when David wasn’t sure Patrick would actually be able to let David have control, especially given the small noise of anguish he made, audible even with his face in his pillow, but then he did, arching his back and pushing his ass out, his muscles finally relaxed.

“That’s it, just like that. You’re doing so well.” David praised, using his hands to separate Patrick’s cheeks further. Sure enough, some of his come was leaking out of Patrick, which David suspected wasn’t helped by the fact that he was still stretched from earlier. More had clearly dripped out earlier and clung to the cleft of Patrick’s ass, and upon further inspection, he found some down on Patrick’s balls. “Oh, honey, just look at you. Look at how gorgeous you are.” At this Patrick moaned and opened his hole further, and another bit dribbled out as David watched.

“Please, I need it in me—put it in me, please, put it back in me.”

Patrick had turned his face from the pillow, resting on his cheek and looking like he was almost in pain. “I’ve got you. You’re do so well,” David encouraged as he placed a series of light kisses on his glutes. He sat back then and took another long look at Patrick’s sloppy entrance. “You got pretty messy—” David said—“Look at all that come. But I’ll help clean you up. We’ll put everything right back where it should be. How does that sound?”

“Yes. Christ, that’s—yes. God yes,” Patrick said.

“Okay, you just relax, and I’ll take care of it. Can you hold your ass open for me?”

Nodding into the pillow, Patrick reached back to help hold his cheeks apart, and David bit back a moan at the sight. He sucked on his thumb to get it nice and wet, and then he ran it slowly from Patrick’s balls to his hole, collecting the come that had just dripped out with the pad of his thumb. “Open up,” he instructed, and then pushed his thumb inside Patrick, with all the escaped lube and come with it, and Patrick’s ass took it back easily. He pressed his thumb in as far as it would go before removing it slowly.

“Fuck.” Patrick arched even more and pushed his butt back further into David’s face.

“That feels a little better, hmm? Of course it does,” he added as Patrick mewled. “We’ll just get you all cleaned up so no one can tell you have all of my come in there.” Then he did it again, gathering more of the shiny, pearly mess and pushing that back into Patrick too.

“Yes, more,” Patrick gasped as David used a different finger to push everything nice and deep.

“Look at how well you’re doing. Your ass is taking all that come so beautifully. So hungry for it. We just have to get the rest of it now.” David had every right to admire his work.

“Yes, David. Yes,” Patrick said, his voice tight with need.

“This may take a little time. You’re very, very sloppy,” David said, before playfully biting one of Patrick’s cheeks. “And I’m just not sure my fingers will get you as shiny clean as I want.”

Patrick groaned into the pillow.

“I trust it’s okay, then, if I do this—” David paused to lick along the cleft of Patrick’s ass but intentionally avoiding his entrance—“or this.” He licked a different stretch of skin, and Patrick pressed back against David with a whine. “Yes, I understand,” David replied as though Patrick had been at all coherent. “I promise. I’ll get every last drop,” he added. “Just like you need.”

He licked the spot at the base of Patrick’s balls, where some come had dripped earlier, and then he took care of the rest of the places where some might have gone, and also some places that it probably hadn’t but who could say for sure, and then when Patrick was writhing and moaning and coming apart on his tongue, he dripped it from his mouth down Patrick’s crack until it ran into his hole, which David had spread wide open with his fingers, and then he licked that clean as well. It was best to be thorough.

“There we go. So good, you were so good, you took that so well,” he praised as Patrick shook in his hands. “And now look at you. All better, shiny clean. All that mess deep inside of you again.” He released Patrick’s opening and ran his fingers over it lovingly before he went back to massaging Patrick’s lower back, his other hand holding Patrick’s hip steady as he placed delicate kisses all over.

That’s when he noticed that Patrick had at some point grown very, _very _hard. Again.

_To be thirty again,_ David thought ruefully. He didn’t have a chance in hell of getting hard again, no matter what they did. David ran a finger over Patrick’s cock. “Do you want me to help you take care of this too? Do you think you can come again?”

“Yes,” Patrick choked out, his cock jumping at David’s touch.

“All right, let me help you.” He changed position briefly so he could stretch enough to retrieve the bottle of lube again, as it had at some point been put back inside the nightstand. Returning quickly with a handful, David went to work, reaching between Patrick’s legs to methodically jerk him off as efficiently as possible given that Patrick was already a mess and had come twice. Stretching out the handjob wouldn’t have done him any favors.

David enjoyed himself nonetheless, and was grateful Patrick had his head back in the pillow and couldn’t see David’s face as he took him apart. As he fisted his cock with one hand, he went back to fingering him with the other, rubbing gently against his over-sensitized prostate, and soon enough Patrick started rocking back against him and whimpering, and when David saw him start to tense up in the way he’d come to recognize, he didn’t even wait for Patrick’s warning; he removed his hand from Patrick’s ass and used it to catch anything Patrick might still have to give as the likely excruciating orgasm made him shake and cry out. David talked him through it as best as he could, and when Patrick was finally done, David moved up on the bed so he could kiss him, his tongue licking Patrick’s lips, which opened to let David in further. He tongue-fucked Patrick with everything he had still to give.

Eventually Patrick pulled free, resting his head on David and looking at him gratefully. David gave him a little smile. “All better?”

“All better.”

“Good,” David said, as Patrick shifted his weight so he could take a drink from the mug on his nightstand. When he put that down, he was clearly aiming to lay down again, but David stopped him before he could. “Wait just a minute—just one more thing. Well, two more, actually.”

He didn’t miss Patrick’s eyes flick down to David’s cock. “Not that, I promise you. Now—no, keep your ass up just a little longer. That’s it—now, first, I am going to put this—” he paused to indicate Patrick’s come, which coated the palm of his hand—“inside of you with the rest of the mess I just cleaned up.” He glanced at Patrick’s face in light of the dying animal sound he made at David’s announcement, double-checking that Patrick was on board. Then, that settled, pressed forward with outlining the rest of his plan. “And second, I’m going to put a toy inside of you because I don’t want any of it leaking out again—it upsets you, apparently, and frankly, I don’t intend to be woken up again until it’s time to stumble out the door to open the shop with less than two minutes to spare.”

With that, David patted Patrick lovingly on his ass and got to work. Sleep was calling.

*********

David was woken up long before it was time to stumble to the Apothecary.

In fact, David was woken up again well before dawn, which was a time that shouldn’t even exist if you asked him. He certainly tried his very best never to experience it. Not anymore, anyway. Not since New York, where it was bright as day even at night, and going to bed at dawn had been a common occurrence. Going to bed higher than the Empire State had also been a frequent occurrence, as was not going to bed at all until unconsciousness finally saved him from himself sometime the next day. In any case, as with any sane person, it was now his strong preference to miss the predawn hours entirely.

That it was still dark was the first thought that solidified when David stirred, the next was that the clock on the shelf next to the bed read 3:56 a.m. The third was that Patrick had at some point turned on his lamp, and the fourth was that Patrick was now spooning him—and he was hard against David’s butt.

_How?_

_Seriously? Again?_

Then Patrick moved and made a soft moaning sound that he was clearly stifling as much as possible, and that’s when David rolled onto his stomach, flopped his head down, closed his eyes, and informed Patrick that it was very much a time for sleeping and could he please turn out the light.

At the pitiful sound that emerged from Patrick, David opened his eyes again as the previous evening’s activities flooded his brain. He turned his head to look at Patrick; his eyes were dark and a little wild, and David felt his brow furrow when he realized Patrick was slowly stroking his cock while looking at David with a very desperate look in his eyes.

_How??? _David could barely get his eyes open, much less his dick up. He tried to think of a way to express all of this aloud without being rude, but it was four in the morning, and the hour was less than conducive to his best work.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Patrick said, his voice tight, likely in response to David’s blatant dismay.

“And this was what you landed on?” David asked, before he could stop himself. He pinched his eyes shut. “Have you tried counting sheep? Or, I don’t know, warm milk? Adelina used to bring us warm milk with our Xanax.”

“I tried,” Patrick replied, rolling back a little and sitting up against the pillows. He sounded frustrated. “Eventually I got up and made some tea, because that usually does it, but it didn’t help.” He picked up the mug on his nightstand and seemed to finish it off, or nearly so.

“Well, I need to sleep, so I hope you figure something out.” David patted his leg, pointedly ignored the tented sheet, and rolled over.

Patrick sighed loudly. “I feel…itchy.”

Breathing out heavily through his nose, David suggested, “Benadryl.”

“I’m not sure it’s that kind of itch.” Patrick scratched his fingers through David’s hair.

“Mmmph,” David said.

Patrick leaned over and began to massage David’s shoulders.

“Mmmmphhf.”

Patrick tugged the blanket free from David’s arms and pressed a kiss against his bare shoulder blade. “Or we could—”

“Nope.” David said, abruptly sitting up then so he could better make his point through flailing. “Nope, nope, nope. I’m exhausted, largely from fucking you extensively, I might add, and—” Seeing Patrick’s face, he added, more gently. “Look, last night was amazing, but we have a long day of work ahead of us, and you know that I require at least nine hours or the bags under my eyes become full sets of Mark Cross luggage, and frankly, I don’t think I could even if I wanted to.” He tipped Patrick’s face up and gave him a peck on the lips. “You really took it all out of me last night. Literally.” He scraped has hands over his face. “Can we go back to bed now?”

“What if I—you could just lie back, and I could take care of everything. I could make you feel so good.”

“Patrick, sleep. Please.” David ignored the fact that Patrick was slowly stroking himself again. The thought of how overly sensitive he must have been made David cringe on his behalf.

Patrick made a frustrated sound, and picked up his mug again, seeking a last sip, failing, then swirling around whatever dregs must have been left in the bottom. He leaned over to David’s ear, nipping at it then whispering, “You wouldn’t have to be awake. I could just blow you until you came, right in my throat, or—fuck—I could ride you, and the whole time you’d be dreaming that you were—”

“Um, so I don’t know if that is really hot or totally fucked up, maybe both—probably both—but listen to yourself. This isn’t you. You don’t even like to jerk off alone anymore.” He peeled the mug from Patrick’s fingers and set it on his own nightstand. “What the fuck is even in this stuff?” he grumbled, laying down again, and pulling Patrick down with him, tucking him into his side.

Patrick started grinding into the mattress as he ran his fingers beneath the tangle of sheets to find the trail of hair that ran down to David’s dick. “How ‘bout a hand job? You love it when I finger you as I jack you off. And then I could lick up all the come from you after—god, that would be so hot.”

David pulled Patrick’s hand out from under the blanket. “You do realize there’s no way I’m going to get hard again tonight, much less come.” Neither of them were nineteen anymore, and refractory periods were a thing, even if Patrick’s dick hadn’t gotten that message.

“But I need—”

“M’kay. Goodnight, honey. You can give me a hand job tomorrow, I promise. Now, I’m going back to sleep.” David rolled over. “Why don’t you turn out the lights and join me?”

“I don’t think I can sleep like this,” Patrick said, seeming a bit embarrassed. David resisted the urge to let him know exactly how often he slept with a hard-on, apparently without realizing it, but when David didn’t respond, Patrick added, “I guess I can just go take care of it on my own.” He sounded weary.

“That sounds like a good idea,” David said and blew a kiss. “Think of me.”

With a little groan, Patrick climbed out of bed and turned out the light beside the bed. David peeked out one eye and watched through the near-darkness as Patrick padded off to the bathroom, stroking himself lightly as he went, his bare ass on full display. It took David a moment to realize he why was walking funny—he still had the plug in his ass—and for half a second David was tempted to change his mind and assist after all, but then he remembered the alarm that would be going off before he had time to fit in a whole sleep cycle—something that had eluded him thus far that night—so he closed his eyes and attempted to fall back asleep.

It soon became clear, however, that sleep wouldn’t be possible. Small distressed noises were coming from the bathroom, little groans and cries, and they were definitely not sounds of pleasure. It was almost as though Patrick was in actual pain.

As he listened more carefully, a particularly painful-sounding moan was audible through the closed door. “Patrick? Are you okay?” he called, but even as he did so, he was already sitting up and pushing off blankets. After making his way to the bathroom door, he rapped lightly. “Hey, are you okay?” he asked again, more softly, his mouth at the door. “Can I come in?”

Patrick choked out a yes, and David was in the bathroom and beside him on the tile floor in an instant.

“I can’t,” Patrick said, looking so awful and sounding absolutely destroyed. “I can’t come. I tried.”

This was possibly the least surprising news ever. David gave him a little pat on the knee, surprised a little when Patrick flinched at his touch. “I hate to break it to you—I know you have only slept with women before—but sadly, guys aren’t nearly as fortunate in the multiple orgasm department.” He thought for a half-second, before adding, “Not most cismen anyway.”

“That’s not…I mean, I need to come, but I can’t come alone. For some reason, I physically _can’t.” _

“Um, here, why don’t you come lie down,” David suggested, because again, this was not exactly shocking. He got to his feet and held out his hand.

“I…I don’t think that’s a good idea. Please don’t get any closer either. It is already taking everything in me not to force you to do things you made it clear you don’t want to do, and that knowledge is making me want to throw up—which, by the way, is a very real possibility; I should probably find a wastebasket.”

David closed his mouth. “Something really isn’t right about this.”

“I didn’t mean to wake you up. I’d rather do anything else than bother you with this right now—I know you need to sleep. I’m so sorry, David, but it hurts. It really hurts. I have to—I have to come again, I don’t know why, and I can’t do it without you. Trying is making me feel sick. It felt like I was being cut open.” Patrick made his little frustrated noise and swallowed audibly. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s going on. All I know is I want to fuck you—to keep fucking you—again and again and again.”

David was a little miffed. “I don’t think that part is entirely unreasonable.”

“David.”

“Okay,” David said, springing into action. “Stay there,” he commanded, and left the bathroom, realizing that he’d better put on more clothes first when Patrick’s face blanched.

He gathered up his sweats and put them on. That managed, he grabbed Patrick’s mug from his nightstand and took it into the kitchen, rinsing it out and getting him some cool fresh water.

“I can…I’ll give you space. You should be in bed. Do you think you can make it? Or do you want me to help?” he asked, bringing the water to the bathroom doorway.

“I can do it,” Patrick said, reaching for the edge of the tub to brace himself as he stood. David had initially planned to bring Patrick the water but thought better of it and rested the mug on the nightstand before standing back and watching to make sure Patrick made it to their bed safely. He didn’t get closer.

As Patrick sat down, David cleared his throat. “Um. You didn’t take something, right? Like Viagra?”

“Why would I take Viagra?”

“Because you were curious? Doesn’t everyone try it at least once?” At Patrick’s face, David pushed on. “Or by accident maybe? Maybe we should go the ER, since I’m pretty sure you’ve had that thing longer than five hours at this point.” He gestured at Patrick’s lap.

“David, stop. I didn’t take Viagra. Or anything else for that matter.”

“And you’re not taking some new supplement you bought off the streets to help with all the baseball.”

Patrick just looked at him. “We live in Schitt’s Creek. The only thing sold on the street are Girl Scout Cookies and lemonade, and Ted didn’t bother to set up his stand last week because of the rain.”

“And you are sure you can’t come because, oh, maybe because you’ve already come three times tonight?” But even as the words left his mouth, David knew this wasn’t the issue. Patrick was starting to look… clammy. Really clammy. Clammy and…green. “I’ll, uh, just get you that wastebasket,” David offered by way of apology. He didn’t think Patrick had a bucket or anything else handy, so he grabbed their bedside wastebasket to empty it for him.

There was little inside but a couple of tissues and a cotton swab, except, then at the bottom, David saw four teabags, all seemingly still wet. Definitely used very recently.

He glanced at the kitchen counter where he thought he’d seen—yes. A fifth teabag, wrapped around a spoon next to the honey. And Patrick had had some tea before they had left work as well.

“So, you really like that tea, huh? You said it’s new?” he asked, trying to sound as normal as possible even as anxiety crawled down the back of his neck.

“Yeah, I like it a lot. And before you ask, there’s basically no caffeine in it, so it’s perfect for just before bed. It’s definitely not the tea that’s keeping me up.”

“Are you sure about that?” David asked dryly, emptying everything into the trash and making sure the wastebasket was clean.

“Of course I’m sure.” Patrick looked very sweaty.

David brought him the trash can. “Are you warm? I could get a fan.”

Sweat dripped down Patrick’s face and neck. “Could you please take a few steps back? It’s—my body—it’s—”

Stepping away as quickly as possible, David went across the small apartment and sat at the kitchen table. “I know you don’t agree, but I think it’s something in the tea. What did you say was in it?”

Patrick wiped his brow. “Nothing abnormal. The tin said mostly Bai Mudan tea, rose hips, and pomegranate. All locally sourced and organic.”

Raising an eyebrow, David said, his tone wry, “I didn’t realize we could grow pomegranates in Canada.”

At that, Patrick simply shrugged. He looked like he was barely holding himself together. “I guess they have their ways.”

“And there was nothing else in it?” David tried to think clearly through his utter exhaustion.

“I don’t think so. Maybe some safflower? Oh, and Horny Goat Weed.” Before David could interrupt at that startling revelation, Patrick pressed on. “It’s a common plant in tea, I swear. I _really _don’t think it’s the tea.”

“It’s the tea. It’s something about this tea. We are going to have to call the supplier in the morning to let them know, and we’ll have to pull the rest of the stock. I don’t remember selling any, but—"

David stopped midsentence because Patrick had bent nearly double where he sat on the bed and was holding his abdomen.

“Are you—what can I do?” David asked.

“I’m sorry; it’s just really hard to concentrate. I’m trying to—my body is very hard to control right now.” Patrick took a deep breath, clearly trying to gather himself. “Um, you didn’t sell any. We only got in the one sample tin.”

“Do you need me to be farther away?”

“No, please no. Stay there. I need you. It’s just_ extremely_ difficult to not—” He paused, screwing up his face. “My body wants me to fuck you any way I possibly can, regardless of your opinions on the matter. Or mine, actually. It’s awful.”

“Okay,” David agreed, because he didn’t know what else to do. “Um, let me know if you need me to be somewhere else though.” He tried to keep his face steady and his alarm at bay so as not to add to Patrick’s stress.

Patrick nodded, his eyes downcast.

“Okay, um, who was the supplier?” David asked, noticing then that, as terrible as Patrick seemed to be feeling, the sheet over his lap indicated Patrick was still very hard. That erection was not going to go away on its own, David realized, which meant he had to help. It would have been torture to leave Patrick in that state until they could start making calls in the morning. He breathed out slowly through his nose, trying to school his face so Patrick wouldn’t see his frustration.

As always, Patrick saw right through him. When he finally met David’s eye, he seemed close to tears again. Finally, he replied, “I don’t remember. I left most of it in the tin at work.”

David briefly debated driving over to the apothecary to get the tin, but Patrick made the decision for him.

“Please don’t go—it feels awful when you’re close but aren’t—”

“Fucking you,” David supplied.

Patrick sucked in a loud breath and looked at him. “Yes. Fucking me.” He looked away and seemed to be unable to meet David’s eyes again. Eventually he added, his voice strained, “I think it might be worse if you are far away.” He dropped his head further. “I don’t know what would happen.”

David was hurting him. He never wanted to hurt him.

“It’s really bad, isn’t it?” David said, gently, feeling his furrowed brow give way to concern. “We will figure this out. I’ll—make calls. We’ll get that tin. Maybe get some help too. But we’ll fix it. I can—I can fix it. You just need to hang on. Until then…” he stood up and made his way over to sit beside Patrick, who visibly cringed away. “Until then we need to get you sorted out so you can rest. It feels better for awhile after you come, right?”

The sound Patrick made caused David’s chest ache for him. “Besides, I’m told this is what boyfriends do for each other. Well, maybe it wasn’t addressing this particular scenario, but…” He pulled Patrick toward him—poor Patrick had started shaking, hard—and placed a kiss on the side of his head as he held him. “How would you like to do this?” he asked as lightly as possible even as his stomach tightened further with worry.

“But…” Patrick grabbed the wastebasket and stared into it, holding on for dear life.

Since Patrick couldn’t even voice a real objection at this point, David took over before Patrick did something that he’d hate himself for later. “Uh uh, no buts. Whatever you need,” he said, patting Patrick’s arm for emphasis. He tried to sound confident. “Let me do this for you. But you’ll have to tell me what you’d like to do. As long as I can physically do it at this point, I will.”

“David—I—”

“Hey, this is something you need, right? So please, let me help you with it.” David tried to give him a gently reassuring smile, but Patrick was still looking down and still white-knuckling the wastebasket. Nudging Patrick’s chin, David tried to get him to look up and meet his eyes. His other hand rubbed small circles on his back. “It’s okay,” David said softly. “You can let go now. I’m gonna make you make you come just like you need; so don’t make me beg, okay?”

At that, Patrick did look up, and David started in response, though he tried to cover it by clearing his throat. Patrick’s eyes had grown black, his pupils completely dilated in the few seconds since David had offered to help. “I need—I want—” Patrick made a frustrated sound. “I need you; I want—I need to—”

_There it is, _David thought, and Patrick’s desperation was no longer sexy at all. Patrick looked a little glazed, too, now that David was looking for it. _Fuck._

He was brought back to the present by Patrick, who had taken over and was tipping him back onto the bed, his sheet falling away as he climbed on top of David and began licking at the hollow of his throat. Then Patrick began rolling his hips against David’s thigh. His nostrils flared, and he moaned loudly.

“All right, I know. That’s it,” David comforted, thinking hard as Patrick moved to suck and lick at the side of his neck. “How about a handjob? Will that work?”

“Yes—I…yes. Just…fuck me. I need—”

Apparently what Patrick needed was David’s shirt off, because he yanked it up over his head, tossed it away, and began licking long stripes up along David’s abs. For the moment, he seemed content to let David keep his sweatpants on, but David wasn’t sure how long that would last.

David reached around and clutched at Patrick’s ass, giving a little tap against the plug that fit snuggly into him before giving his ass a good squeeze. “How does that plug feel? Is that still okay?”

Patrick paused to sit back over David’s waist, stroking his cock even as he answered, “Yes, yes. Please, yes. Fuck. Fuck me. Fuck me with it, give me your—I need to. I need. I need it so bad, David. Please.”

“That’s a yes to the plug. Got it.” David tried not to let his voice shake. Patrick’s extreme desperation had become terrifying. “So now I’m going to stroke your cock while you sit there, and you’re going to come all over me. How will that be?”

“Good. God, yes. That would be—I need it. God, that’s, that’s so hot, I want it. Please. _Please_.”

“All right,” David said, “Then that’s what we’ll do.” Grabbing the discarded lube bottle and thankful they had an emergency backup supply somewhere around, he dribbled it on Patrick’s erection, made sure it was comfortably slick for him, and then took him in his fist.

“Yes, yes. Harder, I need more, please, David.” He brought David’s hand to his mouth and began sucking on his first two fingers, running his tongue over them lasciviously, as though he’d been starved for it for months rather than an hour or two tops.

David mostly ignored him and just kept talking as he continued jerking Patrick off without paying much attention to him otherwise, which seemed to make Patrick writhe and pant even more, small noises catching in his throat. “And then, after we finish taking care of you,” he explained, “we’ll get you all cleaned up and get a few hours sleep. And no one will have any more tea. Possibly ever.”

Patrick paused at that, clearly hesitating due to something David had just said, though he caught himself quickly and began fellating David’s fingers again, but David had definitely noticed and slowed the hand on his cock, as it had been steadily working him over until that point. Touching him more carefully, he asked, “What? Is something wrong?”

“No—it’s good, it’s good. It’s so good, David.”

“Nope. Out with it.”

“I just—I need.”

“You are very needy, I know. Now why don’t you tell me? As long as it’s not more of that tea, I’ll do whatever you need to feel better.”

“I want… I can—Fuck. It’s because of you, you’re giving it to me. I’ll—I’ll clean us up. I need it—you gave it to me, and I need it…Please, let me—oh god, harder, David, please. I need it in me. I need you to fuck me and put it in me. With yours. I need—You have to make me come. I want to—Fuck, please more.” Patrick begged.

David did as he asked, tightening his grip and fucking Patrick’s thick cock a little faster, trying not to break his rhythm too much when he finally stitched together Patrick’s incoherent phrases and realized what he needed. David would—he could do it for him.

“God, yes, just like that.” Patrick babbled. “Just like—Oh, harder, please. I need you to fuck me harder.”

“Don’t you worry,” David said, trying to sound certain even as his own anxiety spiraled completely out of control. “I’ve got you. I’ll take care of you. Whatever you need.”

“Yes, fuck. David, I want you so much,” Patrick moaned, a long anguished cry following his words.

The sound shook David to the core. “I’m here,” he said. “I’m here. I’ll fix it. Now let’s get you off, so we can go to bed, okay? Do you want me to play with your plug a little?” He swallowed. “I can get you ready to take all that come we make.”

Patrick had his head tilted back and his eyes shut, and David couldn’t tell if he’d even heard David at all, he was so lost in it. He took a deep breath and began using every tool in his repertoire to get Patrick off—and hopefully also get him back. David wasn’t good at taking care of things like this alone. He couldn’t think. He needed reinforcements. He needed _Patrick._

Patrick gave a long agonized groan, rolling his hips, completely gone.

“Okay, honey, that’s it,” David encouraged. “Good job. Just look at you. Does that feel good? Yes of course it does. I know. There you go, just like that. Good job, honey.”

He focused on his breathing and tried not to lose it. Patrick needed him.

The clock on the wall flipped to 4:33 a.m.

*********

There was no way David was going back to sleep after that. When Patrick finished, he cleaned them up as best he could, as much as Patrick would allow, but before he could suggest a sheet change, Patrick had already curled up and was halfway asleep. David gave him a quick kiss on the forehead then went to the kitchen, sat at the little table, and tried to somehow prevent a full-blown panic attack.

He knew Patrick felt a little better after he’d come again—he’d said as much—but that had happened the last few times too. Each time he’d seemed normal after, so who knew if it would last. David thought he’d have at least an hour, though he didn’t have time to lose.

It wasn’t even 5 a.m., but he had to somehow get that container of tea from the Apothecary to figure out where it was from and what was in it. He could do this. He could figure it out. He just needed a little help.

Pulling out his phone, he sent off a quick text, hoping the incoming text noise on Alexis’s phone would be loud enough to wake her, even in the middle of the night. If she could figure out how to smuggle Jason Mraz’s avocados into Singapore, she could probably help with this.

*********

When David heard the knock and opened the door to find Alexis there, he breathed an audible sigh of relief. He hadn’t been so happy to see her since the time she’d gotten kidnapped and ransomed by her own boyfriend on a pirate ship somewhere off the coast of the Maldives.

“Oh my god, thank you,” David said. “I couldn’t leave him, and I didn’t know what to do.”

“And you decided texting me in the middle of the night was the answer,” she said, looking around for Patrick. She wore no make-up, her hair was in a messy bun, and David thought her dress might have been out of season before they’d even arrived in Schitt’s Creek. He knew how much leaving the house like that had probably cost her. He never loved her more.

“He thought if anyone could break into the Apothecary without a key, it would be you,” Patrick said as he emerged from the bathroom. David had woken him a few minutes before Alexis’s arrival so he could shower quickly and dress. His cheeks were slightly pink, but he still seemed okay for the time being. David thought they had at least twenty minutes or so until something started to happen again. If something started to happen again. He wished really fucking hard that nothing happened again.

“Well that part was easy,” Alexis said and began describing her entry through their storeroom window and her use of a high heal, scrunchie, and nail file to achieve it, unaware of David’s limited window of time. “It was hard to find the tea though.”

“But you got it, right?” David asked, his anxiety rising again.

“Yes. But you owe me like four nice things, like maybe a moisturizer, and I think I saw some new shower gel…” She trailed off, digging through her bag as she looked for the tea. “Oh, and lip balm doesn’t count. I can just use that for free whenever.” She continued to look in her giant purse, pulling things out and putting them back in, pausing to put on lip balm, and then starting to open various side pockets as she looked for it. David was starting to think he might have an actual heart attack—or maybe a pulmonary embolism—when she finally pulled it out with a smile “I knew it was in there somewhere,” she said, handing it to David, who was still trying to breathe normally. “Why was this such an emergency anyway? You made it sound like it was a matter of like, life and death or something. It’s just tea.”

“Um, so, we discovered that it has certain, uh, significant side effects? Sexual ones.” David looked at Patrick as he said it. Patrick began to blush hotly.

“It _might _have significant side effects, you mean,” Patrick corrected. “I still maintain it can’t be the tea.”

“Okay,” David said to him, petting him on the upper arm. “It _definitely _has side effects.” He turned to Alexis to add, “He drank about a gallon of it and then was on me all night like a—”

“Ew, David.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” David said, cautiously handing Patrick the tin after he’d gestured to it, indicating he wanted to look at it.

She gave an exaggerated grimace. “Yeah, um, sounds very dark.”

Patrick appeared to rally then, clearing his throat and adopting his usual air of confidence as he studied the labels on the little container. “See? All normal.” He opened the lid and took a deep breath. “Smells good, actually. Maybe I should just keep—”

“No. Nope, uh-uh,” David said, taking it from him as Alexis announced that if he took even a sip, she would be leaving _immediately._

Patrick held his hands up in surrender.

After peering over David’s arm for a moment at the label on the little container, Alexis looked up excitedly. “Wait! Um, David! Isn’t that the farm where we tried those nom-nom peanut butter things?” Delighted, she smacked him on the arm, hard enough that he cringed away. “Yes! Oh my god, David, with all those old farm witches?”

“For the _last time,_ they were Mennonites.” He rubbed his arm.

“Um, I don’t think so, David. See, look, right here. Below the word ‘organic.’ It says, ‘locally sorced’.”

“Give me that,” Patrick piped up, swiping the tin from them. “Oh, yeah, I saw that. They misspelled it. But what does that have to do with farm witches—which, by the way, I’m with David on this one. They’re Mennonites. We work with several Amish and Mennonite farms. And this same one used to supply all those cat hair throws, too. And the peanut butter bars. Something else too.”

“The anti-aging bee venom serum,” Alexis said before David could respond. “That serum was really good actually. See? No wrinkles.” She pointed to her eyes before continuing. “Why did you stop carrying that? And anyway, that’s not misspelled.”

“Um, yes, it is, Alexis.”  
  
_“Ummm, _no it’s _not_, David. In my high school English class, we learned to conjugate verbs, which, may I remind you, can have participles_ and_ infinitives.”

“Well did your high school English class teach you spelling, because—”

“Ughh, David. You want my help, and then you don’t listen to me! You have to conjugate ‘to sorcerer.’ I sorcerer, you sorcerer, he sorcerered, we sorce—we sorcerering, they sorcer. See? They’re farm witches! They locally sorced.”

Patrick and David looked at each other.

“No,” David said.

“Yeah, nope.” Patrick looked like he was trying not to laugh.

“That’s not even how conjugations _work,_” David said.

“Fine,” Alexis said, flipping her hair. “Then you conjugate something.”

David and Patrick looked at each other again and frowned.

“That’s beside the—”

“Look, just because I can’t conjugate made-up verbs, doesn’t mean—”

“Language is _living_, David. It’s not made up once I made it up. Obviously.”

“I’m going to step in here for a moment.” Patrick took the tin from David. “While you two work out whether Mennonites…sorcer, I’d like to take a look at the ingredients to be sure.” He turned the tin over and studied it for a moment before handing it back. “Nope, I remembered everything. There’s nothing in it I haven’t had in tea hundreds of times.”

“Mennonites don’t sorcer. Old farm witches do. And anyway, they don’t have to list curses on the ingredients label since they don’t have any calories.”

“A curse? Who said anything about a curse?” David flailed.

“Curses are incorrect,” Patrick explained to Alexis.

“That’s what witches _do,_ David.”

“I thought they sorcered. Sorcerered. Went sorcering,” Patrick said.

Alexis ignored him in favor of David, “So what did you do to them that they’re so pissed at you?”

David gaped at her. “Why do you assume that I would have done something?”

Patrick and Alexis glanced at each other. Patrick bit his lip.

“Ugh, fine. That was one time, and it was an accident. Fine, twice. But that was like eight months ago, and it was just their kids! It’s not like I insulted their farmhouse’s aesthetic again.”

“You continue to call them Mennonites. Maybe they don’t like that. It’s not good to misidentify people.”

“How do you know so much about farm witches anyway?” David asked. “High school English?”

“No, David. Remember, when I interned for that Shaman in Indonesia when I was fifteen? You had to get me a new passport after I accidentally misread Yudhoyono’s career path in that public ceremony. But I was there for like three whole weeks before I had to flee into international waters.” She began applying hand cream she pulled out of her purse and added, “Curses are, like, super easy. So, are we going to go visit the old hags or what? I’m getting, like, _super_ bored.”

“They stopped making the peanut butter bars last season,” David said.

“Oh, well, then I’m sure you two can handle it. Besides, Ted is taking me apple-picking later today.” She booped Patrick on the nose then paused and looked at him more thoughtfully. “You look like someone who has gone apple-picking before. Do you know if he means, like, at a grocery store, or…you know what? I’ll just let him surprise me. He wants to surprise me.” She headed to the door to leave. “Good luck with your farm witches. Try not to insult them more, David.”

David shut the door firmly behind her. He looked at his watch. Ten minutes. They’d have to risk it. If they left now, they’d probably make it out of town before Patrick started to need him again.

“So, we’re closing the store and visiting the farm witch—the Mennonite Farm that sent us this, right?” Patrick asked. “Even I have to admit it makes sense to double-check.”

“Yes, mmhmm,” David said, with an exaggerated nod. “Immediately if not sooner.” He paused. “How are you feeling?”

Patrick stopped and appeared to take inventory of his body for a few moments. “I’m okay. A little sore. Actually, kind of a lot sore. But…nothing else.”

Giving him a little pat on the shoulder and a kiss above his ear, David said, “We will just have to hope that holds. I’ll get my shoes. Grab the leftover pizza for the road?”

“On it,” Patrick said, then paused. “There’s no way, right?”

“No,” David said. “She probably just hit the medicinal herbs a little too hard.”

“Right. Because curses aren’t real.”

“Right.”

“Exactly.”

*********

“So that was weird,” David said, buckling his seatbelt.

“Agreed. Agreed.” Patrick started the car. Putting the car in reverse, he pulled onto the long dirt road to the highway.

David frowned and watched the misty forest go by as Patrick navigated the various potholes and rocks littering the road. “So those are farm witches,” he said eventually.  
  
“It seems so.” Patrick turned out onto the highway.

“Like. _Witches _witches.”

“Yep.” Patrick nodded lightly, but his brow was as furrowed as David’s.

“Farm witches are the worst,” David said, distracted because he’d caught his reflection in the car’s passenger side mirror. He took in the state of his eyes. There wasn’t enough eucalyptus eye serum in the entire shop to fix him this morning.

Patrick slowed to accommodate the person turning off the highway in front of them. “I still can’t believe what they did. That was so wrong.”

“So wrong!” David turned to Patrick, his hands gesturing vaguely back in the direction they’d come from. “Who curses people? You can’t go around doing that!”

“It’s not right,” Patrick agreed, putting on his turn signal to pass a tractor taking up an entire lane. “You can’t just put cursed rosehips in people’s tea anytime you feel like it. I don’t care who your nephew is. And how did they even know about my cat hair allergy? Or that you’re allergic to bees?”

“And penicillin.”

“Do you think they put penicillin in something else they sold us? Is that even possible?”

“Who knows. Fucking Antonio.” David was _pissed._ “If he stopped selling shitty copycat knockoffs, maybe people would shop there, and then really good vendors wouldn’t have to curse us ‘because family’.”

“Elmdale is far enough away that he should be able to stay in business without trying to get us to go under, that’s for sure. And what did they think would happen? We’d just never be able to go to work again, because we couldn’t get out of bed? The tea wasn’t _that _powerful.”

“I mean, it kind of was,” David pointed out. They would soon pass the Warner farm on the left, and then up ahead of that a few miles was Brenda’s little shopfront. He’d only recently repaired that relationship, and she’d began letting them sell her moisturizers and other products again. It was a good thing she wasn’t a witch; she’d have had legitimate reason to curse him. After considering this for a moment or two, he turned to Patrick. “Maybe we should get an EpiPen for the shop. Just in case.”

“Or we could just put a salt ring around it,” Patrick said. “Do you think Alexis will help?”

After studying his profile for a moment, David said, “I can’t even tell if you’re joking at this point.”

Patrick turned and glanced at him, and his eyes were crinkled, and David caught the fleeting smile that turned up the corner of his mouth. Patrick took his hand and kissed David’s knuckles before resting them between the seats.

“Well, after this, I think I’ll be handling all of the ordering,” David said pointedly.

Patrick glanced at him, confused. “What? I didn’t order the tea. It came in with the alpaca scarves, so I thought you did.”

“Well then who—oh. Right.”

Patrick’s nose flared. “We’re cancelling their account, right?” Patrick asked as they passed Mr. Hockley’s greenhouses.

“One-hundred percent,” David said. He ran his thumb along Patrick’s until Patrick needed his hand back to flip on his turn signal and take a left just after the Himalayan breeder’s cattery. “It’s too bad though. Those peanut butter things were really good.”

“You said they don’t even make them anymore.”

David shrugged in response. “They might again this fall.”

“They did sell really well—when you and your family left some on the shelves to sell.” He patted David’s leg as they made their way through town. “Maybe if they start again, we can reconsider.”

“Would that be weird?”

“David, everything about this is weird. Hey, do you want to stop at the café first? I’m exhausted. I could really use a cup of—”

“_Patrick._”

“Coffee,” he finished, trying to look innocent.

“By the way, what did you do with the rest of the tea in that tin? Did you leave it there?” David asked.

“No, we still have it. I tossed it in the back when we left. We’ll have to figure out what to do with it at some point. We can put it in the safe for now.”

David peered over his shoulder and saw the little container resting innocently on the backseat. “Last night was really fucked up,” he said as he turned back around.

“By the end—I was so afraid of what—”

“I know,” David said. “But we got through it.”

“Yeah, I guess we did.” Patrick gave him a bashful smile. “Thank you. For everything. You were amazing.”

“Okay, but like how amazing?”

“David.”

“I mean, like a little amazing or a lot amazing? Or…?”

Patrick sighed loudly, feigning annoyance as they pulled up and parked outside the Apothecary. “Completely amazing. You were completely amazing, David.”

David decided then and there to add that to his tombstone too. “Well, good. That’s—that’s good,” David said, giving in and for once letting his mouth do whatever it wanted as Patrick leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.


End file.
